


A Bit Longer

by turningoverwill



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, SPOILERS FOR 8x01, jonno is smitten and it’s everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningoverwill/pseuds/turningoverwill
Summary: He can still feel the adrenaline coursing through his blood, a vivid pumping throughout his body, his heart a loud drumbeat in his ears.A little moment of a certain scene from 8x01, as per Jon’s POV.





	A Bit Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! What did everyone think of the first episode?!
> 
> Posted this on tumblr yesterday, and figured I should post it here too. It’s just a drabble of that scene, because well, I’m not really over it. I hope you enjoy it! :)
> 
> (This is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.)

Of all the things he imagined happening today, riding a dragon was not amongst even the remotest of possibilities. The teasing look in Dany’s eyes as she had lazily goaded him, the biting of her lip at his  _ graceful _ mounting of Rhaegal, as well as the flush currently adorning her face all served to remind him that impossible things could happen, especially when Daenerys Targaryen was involved. 

 

He can still feel the adrenaline coursing through his blood, a vivid pumping throughout his body, his heart a loud drumbeat in his ears. The singe of lust had mixed with the excitement as soon as Rhaegal had taken flight, the thrill of their chase through the skies over his harshly stunning home only amplifying the feelings. All this despite the awkward placing of ….  _ delicate appendages _ . It still feels as though his heart is up above him, yet to descend to where he currently stands, sharing a place of his childhood with Daenerys. 

 

The sun is behind her, casting a glow around her that makes her seem otherworldly. Breath catching in his throat, his tongue feels clumsy. Her ethereal beauty is more pronounced, and it renders him immobile; the only thing he feels capable of doing in that moment is to stare at her, and try to commit the joy etched on her face to his memory. The love he has for her emanates from the very depths of his being, and he can feel it piercing through the darkness he had considered an old friend; the very thought of her reminding him of the happiness he might yet be allowed to find. The light catches on the snow, dancing off the snowflakes giving the illusion of a multitude of pale coloured shimmering gems; as though the crystals sparkle and come to life around her. 

 

Despite the ease with which Daenerys could disappear into the sea of snow that surrounds them, she appears as a striking counterpoint. The veins of red on her coat provide a vivid contrast to the whiteness of the fur that adorns it, which in turn softens the hard angles of her coat. And although the finer points of ladies fashion evade him, and he is not sure he would be able to fully explain why, Jon finds that he appreciates the fine balance the coat strikes. 

 

When he had first seen her in this coat, he felt overcome him with a possessive surge. It set off something deep within him, a primal instinct at seeing her in those colours; colours he felt connected to through Ghost and the Weirwoods of his roots, the dash of red also a reminder of her family‘s House. As though she ismarking herself as his, with his name of Snow marked by the fur, while bidding the North to take notice of her; the strands of red reminding them of her name, and to underestimate her at their own peril. 

 

An ache settles in his heart at the reminder of how long he has been separated from Ghost, a part of him left at Winterfell with the only family that remains to him while he had journeyed south. His hand flexes by his side, wishing that Ghost were here in this moment, if only so that he could sink his fingers into Ghost’s fur. He had seen a brief flash of his faithful companion when he had returned to Winterfell, before duty had pulled him away and a proper reunion had been forced to wait. 

 

The falling snow is gentle in its descent, and he is transfixed by the quiet wideness of her eyes, as she takes in the waterfall in front of them, enamoured by what she sees, just as he is with her. 

 

“We could stay a thousand years, no one would find us.”

 

Promises of eternity in a cave whisper through his mind, the pain of a different girl kissed by fire grip his heart for a moment, before he swallows, before it passes, and he’s in front of Dany once more. “We’d be pretty old.”

 

The bemused curve of her mouth causes his lips to twitch, and he realises he will do anything to make Dany smile, to keep her smiling. The pull towards her is automatic; instinctive, and he has no want to fight it. 

 

“It’s cold up here for a Southron girl.”

 

“So keep your queen warm.”

 

She steps closer, and then he’s lost, lost in her, and he’s overcome yet again by the realisation he doesn’t wish to be found. The desire that had started to hum just beneath his skin the moment she challenged him to ride Rhaegal echos louder, before something pierces the moment and all too soon he’s pulling away, the awareness of a gaze too much to ignore. He glances over to the dragons, an expression greeting him that he decides not to decipher too hard. He blinks. 

 

“Don’t be afraid.”

 

And she’s still smiling and then pulling him closer by the fur on his cloak, and he’s wrapping his arms around her again. And just before he can fall into her as he wishes to, the weight of a stare causes him to look over once again, gazing straight into Drogon’s eyes. He gulps. Daenerys opens her eyes and glances at what has him distracted.

 

She mutters something in High Valyrian, and Jon allows himself a small smile. He’s getting better at distinguishing between Dothraki and Valyrian. He lurches forward suddenly, before realising Dany is jerking him further toward the waterfall, shouting over her shoulder at her dragons. Whatever she says does the trick; they avert their gazes and Jon has to stop himself from stumbling into her when she stops walking. There is an infectious giddiness emanating from her, vibrating between them, and Jon finds himself thankful for it. Thankful that despite the cold welcome that greeted her, greeted their arrival in Winterfell, she can still find some joy in the place where she suffered such a tremendous loss. 

 

He thinks he should say something, ask her what she’s thinking, ask her about Viserion, but as he catches her eyes once more, and notes how bright they are taking in the landscape surrounding them, he has no wish to remind her of her pain in this moment of sweetness. He can feel the instinct to lean closer taking him over, and he’s powerless to fight it. 

 

He presses his mouth back to hers, this time losing himself completely in the kiss, a tangle he has no desire to untwist from. And then he’s falling and soaring once more, higher, higher, until he’s chasing his heart and he swears he can feel the clouds. Closer, closer, he wants to pull her so close it would be impossible to separate. His arms are round her waist, and she’s pulling on the front of his cloak, but still, it isn’t close enough. He takes the openings of his cloak and wraps it over her shoulders, the straps across his chest making it a little awkward, but then he can feel her grin against his lips at their makeshift cocoon. He pulls away slightly, breathless, still keeping her encased in his cloak, and his heart feels full at the utter delight he finds looking back at him. 

 

“Will Rhaegal allow me to ride home?”

 

“If he doesn’t, we will just have to stay here forever.” There is an ebullience radiating from her, and Jon can feel it warming him right down to his toes. _Maybe this time I can keep a vow._ He knows it is folly to promise anything with the threat they are facing, but he finds he want to do it anyway. He brings his face to hers, nuzzles her nose the same way he has done countless times now. “Let’s stay a bit longer.”

 

She must know the thought he has just had, and like he, has no care to voice it aloud. It only makes him pine harder for this moment to last forever. “Aye, a bit longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this, I really appreciate it. ❤ I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think! :)
> 
> (Also, if anyone knows how I can stop the image from looking blurry, I would be forever grateful please.)


End file.
